


words like poison in my throat

by foxaquinn



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Aromantic, Fluff, Other, Self Insert, aro jonathan sims, as a treat, croweverse, i can have little a self projection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxaquinn/pseuds/foxaquinn
Summary: Crowe Feather is not good at love.He’s never been. It’s not something that comes naturally - not like singing or reading the cards. Everyone around him seems to be able to just… feel it, but whenever he sees someone that he could be interested in, he has to pry his brain for answers about whether he’s in love or just delusional. And those answers are never clear.-loving words don't come easy to everyone
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	words like poison in my throat

Crowe Feather is not good at love.

He’s never been. It’s not something that comes naturally - not like singing or reading the cards. Everyone around him seems to be able to just… feel it, but whenever he sees someone that he could be interested in, he has to pry his brain for answers about whether he’s in love or just delusional. And those answers are never clear.

He’s tried asking his deck before, but whenever he reads about love, it’s like all the emotion and power usually packed into flipping over that card disappears, and he is left with nothing but a dull, twisting frustration and sickness in his gut.

He figures it’s probably just because love seems to be so damn unreachable, so unpredictable that even the cards have no idea what its true mechanisms are, so he just sighs and slips away his deck and goes back to doing a mental tumbling routine about whether or not he even cares about whatever person he’s decided to try and take a fancy to.

That’s another thing. He has to try. No one else seems to have to do that. He’s never heard a love song talking about the process of forcing those feelings into his chest and wearing them like a cheap costume. He’s never seen a romcom with a protagonist who stumbles over himself trying to grasp at whatever he’s supposed to feel.

He feels utterly alone in the way he seems to experience love. And it kinda fucking sucks.

It’s not that he doesn’t want that! He does! A lot! He wants kissing, and cuddling, and holding each other tight, and going through life with a person that you’ve dedicated your whole heart to. And maybe the words, all the “I love you”s and “you make my heart skip a beat”s and “you’re my everything”s don’t actually mean anything to him, but they’re still a nice sentiment even if he feels like a disgusting liar when he wrenches them from his throat, so he plays along with whatever will make him feel like he’s doing this right for once.

(Truly, deep down - he never feels like he’s doing it right, but it’s the illusion that’s actually important to him. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it.)

So, imagine Crowe’s pure and utter delight when he meets Jon, and for once?

For once, it’s fucking easy.

Their first date is a breeze. He doesn’t find himself trying desperately to draw up empty words and feelings. Instead, they talk for hours, and Jon’s a little stuck up and he’s got his guard up at first, but walls break down easily and by the end of the day he’s laughing at all the same stupid jokes Crowe is.

They never say I love you, never talk about any kind of romantic feelings or mushy ideas about love at first sight. But they talk, and talk, and talk, and Crowe is finding that far, far better than anything he’s ever had before.

He decides to label this new feeling, this spark of connection, as love. Finally, he’s feeling love.

(And honestly, he’s not wrong. But maybe it’s not the kind of love Crowe thinks he’s feeling.)

He dives headfirst into this new experience, and suddenly he’s seeing Jon almost every single day, usually on his lunch break when he goes to visit him down in the Archives (despite how odd that building makes him feel). They still don’t talk of romance - instead, they talk of everything else, and the words flow from Crowe’s mouth easily and readily.

Even the first time he gives Jon a kiss on the cheek - not even thinking about it, a kiss goodbye as Crowe realizes he needs to head back before his lunch break ends - feels natural, normal. It feels good, makes his chest flutter and makes his heart soar. Jon is flustered, stammering and more nervous than Crowe’s ever seen him but he’s smiling a real, genuine smile and brushing fingers over the place Crowe pressed his lips to.

When everything begins to happen, they still stay strong, and the connection they have only grows and toughens, weathering against the storm that has become their lives.

Nothing that whatever fucking awful fear gods control the world can throw at them even comes close to breaking them. They are in love, Crowe knows. They are in love and love is the most powerful fucking thing on the planet and maybe in this God-forsaken universe.

A lot happens, and they both change. For the better and for the worse. But by the end of it all, they are together, and they know that they are in love.

But they’ve never said it.

Years later, as they both relax in a cottage, bought with the stolen money of a certain avatar of the Lonely, they’ve still never said the words that most people would consider absolutely paramount to a stable relationship.

Because for all the things they’ve been through and for all the love that has grown, the words still feel foreign on Crowe’s tongue, heavy like a weight in his throat, blocking them from surfacing. Jon never asks, and frankly, they don’t have time to consider it at all, so it never comes up. Crowe is grateful for that.

But they’ve got all the time in the world now.

They’re on the couch one night, the TV playing but not being watched (ironically). Crowe is nestled under Jon’s arm, snuggled as close as they can get without some kind of horrific body horror. It’s comfortable, but Crowe can feel the tension in the air - something like words unspoken that make dread build in his gut.

He knows what’s coming, and as much as he doesn’t want it to happen, he’s going to let it. Because he is in love with Jon, and saying as much will not be hard, even if the words taste like empty bile.

Jon starts to say something, then hesitates, leaving the breath hanging in the air between them.

“Crowe, have we ever said I love you?”

Crowe shifts. “No, I don’t think so.”

Jon is quiet for a moment, and Crowe braces like he’s about to fucking break up with him. (Those are more words that taste awful to him - although not for the reasons you’d think, because ‘breaking up’ implies things to everyone else that Crowe does not like to think about.)

“Hm,” Jon says simply. “Is this… something we should talk about?”

“I mean, it’s not like it’s caused problems for us so far,” Crowe points out, and he tries to make it sound casual but there is a defensive bite in his tone that he can’t hide.

“Yes, but… shouldn’t we address it?” Jon asks. “If only to figure out… why?”

Crowe swallows. “...and if we arrive at the conclusion that it’s better left unsaid?”

“Well, then we just won’t say it,” Jon says, and he makes it sound easy.

“S’pose you’re right,” Crowe says.

“Where do we even start with that?”

“I guess,” Crowe starts, then trails off, gathering his words carefully. “What we… feel is probably a good starting place. If we feel like those words are even… accurate.”

“Right,” Jon says, quietly, like he’s just been confronted with another piece of a puzzle he thought he finished. “...can you start?”

Crowe swallows. He does not want to start but that’s more of a symptom of not wanting to say anything at all, so he pushes it aside. He knew he’d have to talk about this at some point, and it was better to be honest now than just prolong the inevitable.

“Well, I… I do… I care about you,” Crowe says, drawing it out so he can properly organize his thoughts. “A great deal. I hope you know that. Whatever I say, I care about you more than words can say and I feel like you’re my best friend and I miss you terribly when you’re gone. But…

But love has never felt like the word for what I feel about you. Even if it’s accurate, it still… feels wrong, somehow. Like if I say it, I’ll be… lying. And I’ve done it before, I’ve lied to others, but that’s not what I want to do with you. I don’t want to put on the same song and dance when I know it really is just a performance. I wanna be honest.”

Jon blinks, and says nothing. Crowe feels like the world is fucking falling away. He’s ruined everything, he’s absolutely sure of it, and all he wants to do is take it all back and say he was joking, but it’s not like that would work.

Then, he chuckles, and it’s soft and makes Crowe feel at least a little better. It helps him ease into what Jon says next, so it’s not as much of a cold water shock.

“I know how you feel.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and I - I’ve been dreading telling you because I thought that you would think that meant I didn’t actually care for you or love you,” Jon explains. “But I do, it’s just - it’s not in the way everyone else would, it’s not… it’s not romantic, it’s different than that. I think maybe… I’m not even capable of feeling that way. Like that part of my brain just… doesn’t exist.”

Crowe is left with nothing to say because Jon has said all of it and he cannot believe that what he was feeling even had words and that Jon could even explain it much less feel the same exact way.

He just sits there, wondering why it never hit him before, why he never fit the puzzle pieces together. Of course he can’t feel love the same way other people do - he can’t feel romantic love at all. It’s always been forced, it’s always been wrong, and it was always a mask for other things, other feelings. He feels like he’s watching his life flash behind his eyes and suddenly make sense, like the foreshadowing to a plot twist he never saw coming.

“Yeah, I - yeah,” he says, finally, after a long time. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and the silence is comfortable, but he’s still got worry in his chest.

“This isn’t going to make anything… different, right?” he asks, slowly.

“Not like it’s affected anything so far, so hopefully not,” Jon says. “We seem to have figured it out accidentally.”

Crowe snorts with a laugh. “Well, glad we got that sorted,” he says.

Jon laughs too, and it warms Crowe from the inside. “Me too,” he says.

Crowe does love Jon. Really. Truly. Maybe not in the way other people would expect him to - maybe not even in the way he expected himself to. But he does.

And maybe, one day he’ll be able to say it without feeling like he’s lying, without the connotations everyone else seems to place on those three words, but for now, he’s alright letting the silence and a gentle kiss speak to them instead.

**Author's Note:**

> arospec jon! arospec jon! AROSPEC JON! AROSPE
> 
> i just recently discovered im aro so this is just me throwing all my new feelings into a fic. i hope u enjoyed comments n kudos are very much appreciated n my tumblr is @augustburning, where u can find me screaming constantly about various things including TMA


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